


Strangelove

by kinsale_42



Series: McHanzo [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Consensual but undernegotiated, Dom/sub Undertones, Freelance Security Work, Gabriel Reyes as a persistent background figure, International Travel, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Jesse McCree, Undercover Work, minor restraint, relationship stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsale_42/pseuds/kinsale_42
Summary: Hanzo has accepted a short-term contract with a repeat client in Toronto, but now that it's time to get ready to go, he doesn't want to go without Jesse. Jesse doesn't want to be apart, either, but with multiple bounties on his head, the only way he can travel commercially is fully incognito. The easiest and fastest cover he can put together is the one most likely to break him and destroy his bond with Hanzo. Of course, he's not known for being reasonable, and decides to take the risk anyway.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: McHanzo [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/925497
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. A Job

**Author's Note:**

> The angry sex scene in chapter 4 has some overtones of sexual assault. Though I tried to make it clear that both parties are fully engaged and interested in what's happening, it may still be troubling for some readers. Please be advised. <3

“I have a job.” Hanzo’s eyes were still fixed on the holoscreen, though he hadn’t been following the plot of the legal drama that was playing for at least fifteen minutes. His fingers idly combed through Jesse’s hair, whose head lay like a cat in Hanzo’s lap.

“Hmm? Like, a nine-to-five, or just a contract?” Jesse looked up at Hanzo’s face, beautiful and angular from any viewpoint, but from underneath, he could see the hint of softening in the skin of Hanzo’s neck that came with age. Jesse was hit with a powerful impulse to kiss him there, where his throat was warm and the pulse beat so near the surface.

Hanzo turned his gaze down upon his lover, his thumb trailing tenderly along the line of Jesse’s jaw, smoothing the rogue beard hairs that lay in its path. “A contract. I must travel.”

“Oh.” Jesse tried not to show his disappointment, but he felt the too-familiar pangs of loss in his gut. Since Hanzo had been injured, they had grown even closer and more intimate, and Jesse was bereft at the prospect of this period of golden peace coming to a close. “Well," he said drily. "I guess ya gotta pay the bills.”

Hanzo did not miss the flutter of Jesse’s eyelashes as he looked away, or how his features seemed to settle into an older, greyer expression than what they had displayed only moments before. He passed his hand over Jesse’s hair one more time, then let it rest quietly, gently cradling his partner’s head, as the electrical storm of an impulsive idea took hold in his own brain.

“Come with me.”

The grey eyes snapped back to Hanzo's face, searching for proof that this was a serious offer. Jesse was briefly alight with excitement, but it faded as swiftly as it had arrived. "Aw, babe. You know commercial travel is tricky for me. I wouldn't want to put you through it."

This time it was Hanzo's face that fell. "I see." 

_ Ah shit _ , Jesse thought.  _ Maybe there’s a way to make it work _ . "I might be able to come up with something. Where do you have to go?" 

The tip of Hanzo's thumb brushed against the warm skin at Jesse's temple. "Toronto. And you could help me. I will give you a cut of my fee."

"Well it'd be a damn sight better than warming a seat in the hotel bar all day, but are you sure I wouldn't get in the way? You're used to working solo. I, uh, I'm not even entirely sure what you do." 

"In this instance, I am a security consultant. My client engages me to ensure that certain guests of his go unremarked and undisturbed during their visit. You would be of great help, because I trust you and know you are capable. I would not have to do everything myself."

Jesse smiled softly at this solemn gesture of faith. "I'd have to go incognito, love. Are you okay with that? And it wouldn't be just appearance, it'd be voice, manner, the works. It'd be like I was someone else, someone you don't know."

Hanzo tried to imagine what Jesse meant, but he couldn't see how he would ever be unable to recognize his lover. "I do not think that would be a problem. I would have you by my side, and I would know you."

Jesse sat up and swung his feet to the floor before leaning in for a quick kiss. "And I don't have any of my gear here. How long until we have to leave? I don't suppose there's time for me to make a quick run home?" 

Hanzo swallowed. He’d left it until very late to mention the trip, and then he’d just gone and made it more complicated by inviting Jesse along. “Four days.”

Jesse’s brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out a way to get what he needed. Four days wasn’t enough to get home and back by surface travel, not in January. 

“I will help. I receive half my fee up front; I can outfit you.” 

Jesse nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think that’s how it’ll have to be. How long’s the job itself?”

“Seventy-four hours. With extra days for rest and travel, seven days,” Hanzo said. He always added in time on either side of a job, to acclimatize and to space his arrival and departure so that they did not line up in a regular pattern with that of his client’s guests. And sometimes he was flat-out exhausted, depending on how much rest he was able to get over the course of the job, and an extra few days on the back end meant that he wouldn’t have to travel impaired. With Jesse at his side, the days between work and departure might also prove to be entertaining. He remained seated on the couch, watching Jesse wander into the bedroom.

“What kind of clothes do you wear?” Jesse called from the closet, his voice muffled. “Business? Business casual? Purely tactical?” He came back into the living room, sorting through a handful of small booklets as he went. Passports, Hanzo realized. Where did he get so many passports?

“Ah, to meet with my client, I wear a jacket and tie. Perhaps a sweater? I do not wear a suit.” His mind ricocheted unbidden back to the three piece suit his father had insisted he wear for business meetings. It had looked good but was so formal, and so tight and warm. Hanzo did not miss it. “For the security work, I wear tactical clothing that does not cause me to stand out from the other hotel guests.”

Jesse sat down beside him again. “And am I a partner? A technician? What kind of role will I play?” He was dividing his stack of passports into two piles on the coffee table, and when he was done he picked up the smaller of the two. He flipped open the three booklets to re-examine the information inside.

Hanzo picked the easiest answer, and the truest. “A partner. You will have equal status.”

Jesse looked up at Hanzo, and nodded again. He reviewed the passports one more time, staring for a long time at one in particular. He set it to one side. “Well, I reckon this one would be fine. It’s got the visas I’d need, and this cover would check out for the job. It won’t take much of a set-up, either.” His gaze, unexpectedly solemn, returned to his lover’s face. “You’re sure about this?”

Hanzo bowed his head ever so slightly. “Yes. I want you there.”

“Right, well, let’s get to it, then.”

*

Jesse looked at himself in the mirror, not at the places where the flesh of his abdomen was losing definition, or at the scars that lay under the soft carpet of chest hair, but into his own eyes, like he was summoning all the mental fortitude he possessed. This disguise might need every last ounce--not because it would be hard to pull off, but because of all the layers of associations it carried.

Before him on the bathroom counter was a set of clippers and a box of hair dye. He didn’t need to look at the passport photo to remind himself of the look he was going for, it was etched into his memory. The image haunted his dreams, and the most frightening part was that not all the dreams were bad. The good dreams were almost more disturbing.

Maybe Jesse should have chosen a different persona, but this one had been the safest pick, and the easiest one to achieve with little time for preparation. It would have been a challenge to masquerade as a German in a German-speaking country without practice beforehand, for instance. But the person after whom he'd modeled this particular cover…this was playing with fire, psychologically. 

“You’re sure about this, Han? I’m about to cut it all off.” He spoke loud enough for his voice to carry into the next room, but Hanzo stepped up behind him as he said it and slipped his arms around Jesse’s waist. 

“Do you not want to?” Hanzo asked softly into Jesse’s back.

“I want to,” Jesse replied.  _ I want to be with you; I don’t want to leave you on your own again,  _ he continued silently. “And the hair grows back, I just...you’re so used to me the way I like to present myself to the world. This is gonna be different. Someone that’s not me. I can’t regrow your faith in me if this fictional character damages it.”

“I am not a child, Jesse. I will know you.”

Jesse smiled at his reflection, but it was a bittersweet smile. He wasn’t so sure. But he picked up the clippers and switched them on, and Hanzo stepped away and let him get on with it.

*

“It was lucky that I had the right contact lenses in my ditty bag,” Jesse was saying from the bathroom as Hanzo waited on the edge of the bed to see the final product. He was torn between being intrigued with what Jesse would look like and being nervous that he wouldn’t like it at all. Afraid of being a distraction, he’d stayed out of the way as much as possible during the transformation, so he really didn’t know what to expect, aside from darker, shorter hair.

Jesse flipped off the bathroom light switch and came into the bedroom. He’d cut his hair very short, not quite shaved, but half an inch or less remained on the top of his head, and it was now a very dark brown. Just as startling were the neat, square sideburns and clean cheeks, and the carefully groomed, blunt goatee that closely followed the line of his chin. Hanzo had never seen so much of his jaw, or how square and resolute it was. And when he looked into Jesse’s eyes, they were brown. Something about the brows seemed different too, were they straighter? 

Jesse adjusted his tie and slipped on the sports coat. It went on easily over his mechanical arm now that he’d removed all the heavy armored cladding. 

“Well? What do you think?” His accent was gone, replaced with a more homogenized urban American sound, a shade lighter and somehow more electrified.

Hanzo’s mouth opened, and then closed again. Jesse’s eyes were so disconcerting. He hadn’t realized how attached he was to the unusual shade of grey they normally were, how much they mattered to the rest of his face. It was him, but it was not him. 

“You look...very professional.” He didn’t know what else to say. If the Jesse McCree he had met all those months ago had looked like this, Hanzo would not have given him a second thought. He would have dismissed Jesse as an attractive man who knew he was attractive and traded on the fact. There was somehow a coolness to him now, and Hanzo did not understand how changing his appearance could do such a thing. He wasn't sure how he felt about it at all yet.

“Michael King is a consummate professional.” Jesse turned to examine himself in the full length mirror on the closet door. He approved of what he saw, even as it hurt to see it. The look matched the passport, and if Hanzo’s reaction had been any indication, he was enough unlike himself to confuse most people who were only casually acquainted with Jesse McCree. 

He looked back at his partner. “This is it, Hanzo.” He held out his hands in a gesture of supplication, but there was little about him that suggested submission. “Your call. Do you still want me to go with you, like this?”

Hanzo swallowed. This was still Jesse. Did he want Jesse with him?

“Yes.” 

He got up and moved to stand in front of his partner. His hand reached tentatively to slide along Jesse's cheek, warm and smooth against his palm. Jesse leaned down, and they kissed, and when Hanzo's eyes closed, the ground was once more solid beneath his feet. This was no stranger. 


	2. The Situation

“So this hotel…”

“Is owned by our client.” Hanzo answered Jesse’s question before he’d had a chance to finish. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jesse nodded. He’d taken it as a given that they would need to be discreet about their relationship, but now he had to assume full surveillance. Not that there would be much time for indiscretions, with the schedule they had worked out to cover their own observation. Short, overlapping shifts with a couple hours of down-time for each of them for every few hours on the floor...it would get them through the next three days in a fairly efficient manner but they wouldn’t have any off-hours together until the job was done. And they’d already made reservations at a smaller, more private hotel across town for afterwards.

He was neatly folding the next few days’ worth of undergarments into a drawer when Hanzo returned to the bedroom of their small suite. “It’s a nice place,” Jesse said, looking at the furnishings around him. “I’m always impressed when a wealthy man makes his money by providing quality rather than by cutting corners.”

“He is an honorable man,” Hanzo said. The rest was implied. Hanzo would not engage in business with a dishonorable person. He was still struggling to find his own redemption, and letting his energy be diverted into someone else’s evil would not help him. It wasn’t easy, and it was never as clear a decision as he would have liked, but he did his best. They said little else as they unpacked, and soon enough they were on their way to meet with the client in his private suite.

A man with the bearing of a butler but with all the indications that he was carrying a concealed weapon opened the door to them, and silently stepped aside to let them enter. Hanzo led the way into the suite’s sitting room, where another discreetly armed man stood in one corner, and an elegant older gentleman relaxed in an understated modern armchair.

“M. Hébert, may I introduce my associate, Michael King? Michael, this is M. Étienne Hébert.” Hanzo shook the proffered hand, then Jesse did the same. “Michael and I are considering going into partnership. This is an exploratory joint venture.”

Hébert raised a well-groomed silver eyebrow. “I am not paying for two,” he said, his tone mild but his point clear.

“Of course not, monsieur.” Hanzo switched to French. “I am responsible for his costs, and I trust his skills implicitly. You will not be disappointed, I promise.”

Hébert responded in kind. “I hope not. Your performance as an independent contractor has been exemplary. I would hate for your record to be tarnished in any way.”

“If you permit, I can assure you that I am as invested in my colleague’s continued success as he is. I am merely here to give assistance where I can, and to see if it would benefit us to work together in the future.” Jesse’s French wasn’t so terribly rusty after all. He hadn’t expected to need it, but it was still there in his head. He didn’t miss the look Hanzo gave him, and how swiftly he was able to rein in his surprise.

Étienne Hébert, however, was pleased. He had assumed King was American, or perhaps English, but this man spoke French with a Parisian accent, suggesting he was quite possibly foreign-born. It didn’t guarantee the quality of his work, but at least there were hints of diverse experience and perspective.

“Very well. If M. Shimada is as convinced of your discretion as I am of his, I see no issue with letting your experiment continue.” Hébert returned his attention to Hanzo. “My guest is due to arrive at seven tomorrow evening. That gives you…” He looked at his wristwatch. “Just over twenty-four hours to prepare.” 

Hanzo nodded and accepted the keycard Hébert handed him. “We will be ready.”

“As usual, you have full access. I will get a second card to you for your associate. Please let Adrien know if there is anything you need.”

“Of course. Merci.” Hanzo bowed slightly and turned away, aware that this was his dismissal. Jesse followed suit, and they left the sanctum the way they came in, under the watchful eyes of Hébert’s personal security.

*

“So he knows who you really are. Is that wise?” 

Hanzo broke the airline seal on his bow case and unzipped it, peeling back the special film that convinced the airport scanners that it was a violin and not a deadly weapon. He retrieved the various pieces of Jesse’s disassembled gun and the box of ammunition that he’d found room for around the components of his bow. As he laid them out carefully on the table, he looked over at Jesse. 

“He has known me for several years. If he wished to disclose my identity and location to those who seek me, I am sure he would have done so.” Hanzo harrumphed quietly to himself while assembling his weapon. “I doubt they could make it worth his while. As it is, I do the job he needs me to do, and he is satisfied.” He returned his attention to his bow and arrows, checking that the arrowheads and fletching were to his standards, and that he had an adequate number of sonic detection cartridges. He’d already verified the status of his tools before they left on the trip, but examining them again was a necessary ritual.

“As long as you’re not getting too relaxed.” Jesse began to reassemble his gun. It wasn’t the Peacekeeper, and he tried not to be grumpy about it. He knew his favorite revolver was identifiable and traceable, whereas this nondescript semi-automatic was of a generic style and had a well-obfuscated history. And if the job was anything like what Hanzo was anticipating, he wouldn’t need a weapon at all anyway. Still...it didn’t feel right in his hand. He shifted slightly in his chair as if adjusting his body could make his mind more comfortable.

Hanzo was finding it a little irksome that Jesse was questioning him like this. He was fully capable of managing his work and his clients, and had been working solo for nearly ten years, and that wasn’t even accounting for his experience running the family business… He took a breath. Thinking about the past would not be helpful here. He needed to be looking forward, calmly assessing the needs of this project. He set his bow aside and picked up the tablet that contained the information Hébert had given him.

“Here,” he said, showing Jesse the layout of the hotel. “This is the protected entrance. I watch from here, where I can see the approach from the lobby, with an isolated remote camera outside the door. We do not need the camera, since you can be outside. Their rooms are here.”

Jesse’s finger hovered over the image. “Or I can station myself here, and you can still use the camera. That gives us even more information. And it sets me up to have fast access to the stairs and the service elevator so I can keep an eye on things from the rear once they’ve passed me.”

“Hmm.” Hanzo had to admit he was right. “That would also be acceptable.”

“Who is this guest? What sort of entourage will we be dealing with?”

Hanzo swiped through to the dossier on the guest. It was not particularly illuminating, but he was not surprised. “A single guest, with one bodyguard.”

Jesse leaned over to look at the screen. “We don’t even get to know who it is? Or anything about them?” 

“What more do we need to know? They arrive, we ensure they reach their rooms safely, meet with our client without disruption, and leave safely.”

Jesse pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Alright. But I would prefer to know what I’m dealing with, whether they’re likely to make trouble.”

“Hébert’s guests are not the sort to make trouble.” Again Hanzo wondered why Jesse was being so difficult. Was this the persona? Why was it necessary to act like this when they were alone? Even if they were being observed, it didn’t mean he had to challenge everything Hanzo said. They’d done Overwatch-related ops with less intel and more need of it, and Jesse hadn’t complained. 

“Does the schedule still suit you?” He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice but the way Jesse looked at him suggested he’d failed.

“Yeah. Yeah, the schedule is fine. Basically two hours together, two solo, and two hour breaks every four hours. I’m fine with it, but are you sure you don’t want longer shifts overnight so we can get more sleep?” 

Hanzo shook his head. “I am accustomed to far less. The breaks we have arranged will be satisfactory.” 

“Right. Well, my gear is ready.” Jesse stood up and looked into the bedroom, at the two king-sized beds that awaited them. “We’d better rest up.” He carried his gun over and slipped it into the drawer of the bedside table between the two beds as Hanzo turned out the lights in the sitting room and joined him in the bedroom.

“Tomorrow you will have time to become familiar with the hotel. We will be in place an hour before the guest is due to arrive.” Hanzo stood uncomfortably at the end of the bed near the window as Jesse began to undress.

“Sounds good. Sleep well.” Having folded his discarded clothing neatly on a chair, Jesse got comfortable in the center of the bed furthest from the window. He turned away from Hanzo. “Get the lights when you’re done, will you?”

Hanzo nodded automatically. “Yes,” he whispered, and began to get ready for bed.

*

They were waiting. Hanzo had done a casual tour of the lobby before setting up in the shadows of the mezzanine closest to the side entrance with his tablet showing the camera feed. Jesse was alone in the small, private ground-floor lounge, watching the corridor through the crack in the door. 

A dark car pulled up under the camera in the side street, and an experienced hotel porter stepped out to greet the guest and fetch his single small case out of the trunk.

“He has arrived,” Hanzo murmured into the comms. He looked for the bodyguard, but the only figures he saw were those of the porter and the guest. There was a flash of light and a bit of a blur as the car drove away, and the guest stepped under the camera, safely into the refuge of the hotel corridor.

“Copy that. The door just opened and they are approaching my location.” Jesse’s soft reply warmed Hanzo’s ear. He reflexively bristled when he saw the guest pass through his line of sight. He waited a moment, then spoke again. “An omnic? We’re guarding an omnic?” Then he realized the significance of the guest’s extremely modest attire. “And it’s some kind of...monk?”

Hanzo sighed. “It does not matter who the guest is.” He affixed a sonic cartridge to an arrow and shot it high and silent across the lobby into the wall of the elevator shaft, where it was masked by a planter filled with trailing vines. Then he swiped his thumb across his tablet to pull up the secondary display module. The sonic input revealed the figures of the two omnics in red, as the porter and the guest rode the elevator to the top floor. 

“Where’s the bodyguard?” Jesse's voice came across the comms again. This deviation from the plan got his hackles up.

Hanzo was likewise disconcerted. “I do not know. I am tracking only two individuals, the guest and the porter.”

Jesse flew into the stairwell, taking the stairs two and three at a time, doing his best to keep pace with the elevator. He knew there was another camera in the top floor corridor to let Hanzo monitor the situation from afar, but on the off chance that there would be the need for defense, Jesse would have to be nearby. His brows drew together. Even if it was a damn omnic.

He’d almost made it, his hand on the door handle to the eighth floor corridor, when there was a rush of air behind him and he was knocked to the floor, with someone’s weight on his back. He felt the cold edge of a blade against his jaw as he tried to turn his head to see his assailant.

“Who are you and what are you...What are  _ you _ doing here?”

If the sword hadn’t given it away, the voice did. “Genji! Let me up.”

Genji stepped away, allowing Jesse to get to his feet, but he kept his weapon raised between them. “Why are you here?” he demanded as Jesse wiped the sweat from his face. “Who hired you? What do you want with my master?”

There was an urgency to his voice that was unfamiliar to Jesse, and it rang of personal involvement in the situation to a degree that he’d never displayed during his Blackwatch tenure. Genji was obviously wary of Jesse’s presence, having recognized that he was working undercover, and Jesse couldn’t help but feel the same about Genji. He decided to share as little as possible, at least until he could be more assured about the threat level. 

“I’m here with Hanzo. We’re providing premium security for a guest.” Jesse’s hands were raised slightly in apparent surrender, and his eyes moved between the tip of the sword still pointed at him and the impassive mask of Genji’s helmet. “You’re going to have to convince me you’re not here to make trouble for that guest.”

“I am here to protect my master. And I do not like this,” Genji said, a harsh metallic edge to his growl, stretching his arm to touch Jesse’s chest with the sharp point of his blade. “Your...outfit. It was a poor choice. You look like  _ him. _ ” They both knew he was not referring to his brother or the mysterious omnic who was following the porter into a hotel suite as they spoke. He pressed forward with the sword until Jesse could feel the pain of it against his skin. “Why do you appear like this, in my brother’s presence? It is an insult. A betrayal. Have you even told him what this means?”

"Now, Genji,” Jesse began. “It’s not like that at all. Hanzo asked me to come along, and I didn’t want to let him down. This…” He gestured vaguely to indicate his appearance. “This was my best option. You know I have certain...restrictions...on my movement. I didn’t want to leave Hanzo on his own on his first job since he was injured, so I did what I had to do, and I didn’t think it would serve any purpose to give Hanzo unnecessary background.”

“You even  _ sound _ like him. ‘I did what I had to do.’” Behind his helmet, Genji rolled his eyes. He let the sword drop at last, and sheathed it with a deft movement. “So tell me, why should I not explain to my brother who it is you are imitating?”

“Because it’s only for a few days. And it’s my last resort. I’m not likely to pull it out again, because now I have a reason and time to prepare something else.” Jesse relaxed a little, now that he was no longer in immediate danger of being run through. "I'll tell him."

“Hmph.” Genji was moving towards the door. He needed to get back to his master. “I will be watching, and do not forget that I can have you in pieces in less time than it would take for you to draw your revolver.” And he was gone. 

Hanzo had watched as the porter let the guest into his suite, three doors down from Hanzo’s and Jesse’s. The service omnic returned to the elevator and began to descend. Hanzo waited for Jesse to exit the adjacent stairwell and give him the all clear. He did not appear. Hanzo continued to wait, fighting back the impatience. There were a lot of stairs to climb. The stairwell door opened, but he saw no one cross the threshold. And again he thought he saw a glitch, like a graphical tearing, just on the edge of the camera’s range. Maybe it was time to upgrade his hardware.

Jesse caught the door before it clicked closed, and stepped out into the now-empty corridor. He looked up at the camera and thumbed the comms open.

“So, the bodyguard,” he told Hanzo. “It’s your brother.”

*

“You did not tell me you were injured.”

Hanzo jumped in his chair. He’d heard the door open but had assumed it was Jesse returning from his coffee run and had remained focused on his monitors, observing the activity at the reception desk. Genji was an unexpected visitor.

“I did not think it was important.” He glared at his younger brother. “Besides, I never know where to find you.”

Genji grunted and slouched into a chair on the other side of the table. “The number I gave you will reach me anywhere. You know that.” Then he softened a little, and lifted the visor of his helmet. “How bad was it?”

Hanzo looked back down at his tablet. He switched to another camera viewpoint, and watched through the lens as Jesse crossed the lobby towards the elevator, a coffee cup in each hand. “It was nothing. A stray bullet. With proper first aid and biotic regeneration, I was perfectly fine the next day.”

“Well. I am glad you were in no danger. Except, perhaps, from the person with the gun.” Genji leaned the chair back on two legs and really looked at his brother. They were living such different lives now, and yet...and yet…

“Your boss lets you take breaks?” Jesse set a coffee cup down in front of Hanzo, and took a long pull off his own.

Now it was Genji’s turn to be taken unawares. His head swiveled sharply and the chair thudded back down on all four feet. “I see you have even mastered the ability to appear at will. Complete authenticity in your role, as usual. Do you also vanish at will?” His tone was light, but it cut like a razor.

Jesse was not amused. “Is that a request?” He looked over at Hanzo, who was watching him intently, then turned back to Genji. “And here I thought  _ you _ were the expert at appearing and disappearing.”

Genji stood up. “That is as it should be.” He bowed slightly in the direction of his brother. “I must return to my duty. Please contact me if I can be of assistance.”

“Wait, you’re not going to tell us anything about your boss?” Jesse set aside his irritation for the moment in favor of potential information.

“He is not my boss. He is my teacher.” Genji was clearly still irritated. “He is Tekhartha Zenyatta, a former monk. He seeks to bring people, man and omnic, together. By doing so, he hopes to reach enlightenment. I willingly offer him my aid, though I am far from enlightened myself.” Then he spoke as for Hanzo alone. “It was he who helped me begin to make peace with who I am. You would do well to talk with him.”

Hanzo was silent. He stared into his brother’s eyes for a long moment, then turned his attention back to his screen.

Genji clicked his visor back into place. “You know where to find me.”


	3. Danger

Jesse was sitting with a newspaper in a comfortable chair in the corner of the hotel lobby, the one with the best view of the doors and the main elevator. There was a lot of coming and going at this time of evening, well-dressed folks on their way to dinner and the theater, or parties. 

He looked at his watch. Another five minutes and he would return to the suite. Hanzo’s break was nearly up, and that meant Jesse would soon have time to make his notes without worrying about missing anything on the cameras or the floor. He wondered if he really needed to go to all this trouble, but he’d fallen into his old security detail routine, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to give it the full treatment. Maybe overkill, but…

Jesse’s phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and unlocked it to reveal an incoming message from Genji. He raised an eyebrow, and opened the message.

_ 8:45 pm  _ I need to speak with you. 911.

His fingers flew as he typed the reply and he was in motion almost before he hit send.

_ 8:46 pm  _ Meet me @ suite. 2 min.

Jesse took the stairs, and Genji was striding towards him as he unlocked the door to his and Hanzo’s rooms. Once inside, Genji removed his helmet.

“I think I have seen someone,” he said, before Jesse even had a chance to ask. “Lacroix.”

“What? Where?” Jesse’s hackles were fully up, and he was no longer concerned about whether or not Hanzo was asleep.

“Going into the back elevator from the ground floor. She was dressed in a suit, alone, with a large handbag. I did not get a good look at her face but from behind it looked like her.” Genji was just as concerned, if not more.

“How long ago was it?” Jesse looked at his watch again. Ten minutes before the evening meeting between the monk and the hotelier was due to end, meaning the omnic would be leaving one hotel suite to return to another. He would be exposed in the corridor.

Genji shrugged. “Five minutes? Ten? I saw her, tried to see what floor she went to, and then messaged Hanzo. He did not reply immediately, so I messaged you.”

“What is going on?” Hanzo had opened the bedroom door and was standing there in his soft pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

Jesse looked at him, his lips parted. “Genji will explain. I’m going to go speak with Hébert and get them to stay put until we can determine if it was Lacroix or not.” He didn’t wait for a reply. 

*

"M. Hébert. I apologize for disturbing your session, but it seems we have a security issue. For your safety, and that of your guest, it would be best if you remained in these rooms until I can determine if there is a true threat." Jesse stood straight and tall before the table where Hébert and the omnic monk had been discussing the finer points of human-omnic collaboration only moments ago. 

Hébert nodded. "I see. What sort of danger are we facing?" He glanced at his companion, whose placid metal visage was ever unchanging. 

Jesse glanced at the monk, too, before continuing. "M. Zenyatta's bodyguard witnessed a person who very much resembled a well-known assassin entering an elevator. He informed me immediately. I was in the main lobby at the time, watching reception. I will need to review the relevant camera footage to determine if the identification was accurate. It would also be helpful if I had access to the registration files."

Hébert leaned over his notepad and twisted his pen with his fingertips. "I do not like to compromise the privacy of my hotel guests any more than absolutely necessary." 

Jesse heard quiet footsteps behind him, but he did not turn. "I think in this case you may want to make an exception. If my colleague is correct--and I have worked closely with him before and have a great deal of faith in his judgment--then we are talking about a certain Amélie Lacroix. I have been personally involved in efforts to counter her operations, and am confident that I could recognize her in any number of disguises. I am also familiar with several of her known aliases."

"Ah, yes." Master Zenyatta spoke at last, his mellifluous tone capturing the attention of the room. "The Widowmaker. While I accept that I have no control over the time of my passing from this plane, I should prefer to avoid doing so by the same hand that took the life of my former teacher and brother, Mondatta."

Jesse inclined his head in deference, but before he could reply, Hanzo cut in. 

"You can be assured of our complete discretion. We have no interest in your guests beyond identifying this threat." He stood at Jesse's elbow, with something approaching awe at his partner's unruffled command of the situation. 

Hébert shrugged. "Well, I suppose it must be done." He scribbled out some information on his notepad and tore off the page to hand to Jesse. "Here are the access codes. When can I expect a resolution?" 

Jesse accepted the sheet of paper. "We will have an update for you within the hour. I appreciate your patience."

The butler let them out and they returned swiftly to their own suite. Genji had gone. 

Jesse handed the paper to Hanzo. "Want to pull up the current room assignments? I'll get on the video."

Hanzo nodded and began to type into his tablet. He glanced over at Jesse more than once. Had he seen his partner be so single-minded before? So determined? And it was in service of a job that was not of his choosing, for a client he did not favor. There was an energy that almost thrummed in the space around him as he scanned the camera footage. This couldn't just be an act. Could it? 

With some effort, he redirected his attention to the files. Hanzo had pulled out four potential entries, when Jesse leaned back in his chair and let out a long, whistling breath. 

"What is it?" 

Jesse ran his palm over his cropped head and looked at Hanzo. "It's not her. She's ten or more years too young, for one, and there's no way, even with plastic surgery and expert makeup, that this could be her." He slid his device over for Hanzo to look at. "I see what caught Genji's eye. There's something about the way she carries herself, and the angle of her shoulders. It probably just means she's a dancer too. But just for verification, who do you have for room 401?" 

Hanzo looked down at the notes he'd made, unsurprised to find the listing in one of his possibles. "Room 401 is a Lily Frasier, registered address in Edinburgh, Scotland." 

"Well, I'll run a check just to be sure that she's not otherwise suspicious, but I think we're clear." Jesse reclaimed his tablet and started to access his preferred search tools. 

*

They had reported back well within the hour. Hébert had thanked them for their diligence, and they returned together to their rooms.

“Thank you,” said Hanzo.

“Just doing my job.” Jesse took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair before sitting down and pulling up his camera monitor again. “Do you want me to stay on shift a little longer, help you cover everyone returning for the night?”

Reminded yet again that this wasn’t quite the Jesse he was used to, Hanzo didn’t answer for a moment. “No, I will be fine. Take your break. Rest.”

Jesse nodded, and spent the next twenty minutes silently watching the cameras. He preferred actually being in the lobby or on the balcony of the mezzanine, where all the hotel offices were located, but there was only so much time one could spend in public without being obvious. When the clock hit ten p.m., he got up and stretched. 

"I'm going to go out and walk around the block. You need anything?" Jesse asked, as he picked up his winter coat and pulled it on. 

Hanzo looked up from his tablet, where he, too, had been studying camera feeds. "Hmm? No, thank you."

It was snowing when Jesse got outside, just enough to make the city glow. The cold air felt good after the heat that had come with the adrenaline rush of a possible assassination attempt. It was fading now, and he felt drained, and weary of the façade he had to maintain. Walking through the night, just an anonymous man on the street, he finally felt like he could relax. Now, if he could only smoke, he might begin to feel human again. 

Jesse turned a corner and found himself in front of a warmly-lit twenty-four hour donut shop. Without having to think, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Less than ten minutes later he was back on the sidewalk with two large coffees and a bulging paper sack. He headed straight back to the hotel, his long strides eating up the distance and leaving well-spaced footprints in the thin layer of snow that dusted the sidewalk. 

Hanzo only looked up from his camera display when Jesse dropped the sack on the table.

"Have a donut. They're fresh."

Hanzo looked at the bag and back at Jesse. "No, thank you."

"They're not regular donuts. They're crullers. You'd like 'em." Jesse took a sip of his coffee and pulled a pastry from the bag. It was gone in three large bites. He reached for another and leaned back against the table as he inhaled it. 

"Did you not eat dinner?" Hanzo glanced at his monitor. When his gaze returned to his partner it was met with something akin to a silent death stare. 

Jesse bent over, his lips next to Hanzo's ear, close enough that Hanzo could smell the snow in his hair, the coffee on his breath, and the donuts on his lips. 

"I haven't had a smoke in days. Cut me some slack," Jesse said, very softly, then straightened back up. He reached for a third cruller, never breaking eye contact as he consumed it. 

Hanzo felt the heat rise to his face. "I am sorry." He wasn't quite sure what he was sorry for, but it seemed to be the best response. He tipped the bag so he could see the contents. There was one donut left. He pulled it out and took a small bite as Jesse watched. He nodded. "You are correct. This is better than a standard donut." Willingly, Hanzo ate the rest.

Jesse slid the second cup of coffee towards him and he accepted it without argument. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo said quietly.

Jesse smiled, and something about the way Hanzo looked at him made him feel warm all over. “I’m going to hit the shower, then relax for a bit in the other room. Give me a shout if you need anything.” He escaped as fast as he could, before he did something that he didn’t want recorded by anyone--at least, not without his and Hanzo’s complete consent. Within ten minutes he was gasping in the steaming hot water, leaning against the cold granite of the shower surround as he fucked his swollen cock into his fist.

*

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Jesse was still shaking off the tendrils of sleep and the fading halo of his dreams. Dawn was peeking around the edges of the curtains. He picked up his coffee cup, now cold but still more than half full. Grimacing, he swallowed down most of it. 

Hanzo shrugged. "I did not require your assistance. All was quiet. Now I would like a break. I am hungry." He left his partner to get himself together and returned to the other room.

Jesse grumbled to himself as he pulled on his ultra-light, armored baselayer, then shoved his feet into his slacks and buttoned up a fresh shirt. The visceral memory of his last dream clung to him as tightly as his armor, though the details were not as clearly outlined. He could still feel the rough kisses, taste the smoke that filled his mouth. There was still the lingering sense of being truly desired by the one who never really wanted him, and it made him angry. Jesse knew perfectly well what it was like to be important to someone, and the someone in question was just a few feet away. Why, then, could he not just totally forget that he’d ever been in love with Gabriel Reyes? Why did his subconscious mind insist on reminding him of the yearning?

“Okay, I’m ready. What’s the status?” Jesse leaned over Hanzo’s shoulder, and peered at the screen that displayed the camera feeds.

“The hotel is waking up. Nothing of note has occurred since you last observed.” Hanzo stood up and left his chair for Jesse. “I will get breakfast and return.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Jesse tried not to sound as irritable as he felt. He watched Hanzo leave the suite and followed him by surveillance camera as he went down to the hotel kitchen to collect breakfast. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with food, and everything to do with the graceful man on his viewing screen.


	4. Release

"Our guests have made a successful departure, thanks to your careful supervision." Étienne Hébert looked at the two men sitting in front of him before picking up the touchscreen tablet that waited on the occasional table beside him. He swiped his fingers across it and pressed some virtual buttons before setting it aside again.

"I have transferred the promised payment to your account, M. Shimada. You have done an excellent job as usual.” He turned to Jesse. “It would seem your specialized knowledge was indeed useful, M. King. I thank you for your timely intervention. Now, shall we have a drink?” He signalled his well-armed butler, who was ready with a tray. The butler poured a globe-shaped glass of an amber spirit from a crystal decanter and handed it to his boss. 

Hébert accepted it, then asked, “What would you care for, gentlemen? Cognac?” He indicated his glass. Hanzo nodded, and the butler began to fill another snifter from the decanter. “Or perhaps a whisky might suit you better, M. King? I have a very old and evanescent bourbon, and I recently acquired an extremely rare single malt that is quite evocative indeed.”

“I’m rather partial to a good single malt,” Jesse replied. Hébert smiled and gave his butler a little nod. The man went to fetch the bottle and the appropriate glass.

Hanzo watched Jesse over the rim of his snifter. Scotch was not his favorite, and Hanzo had known this from the beginning. He was exceptionally committed to this persona of his, if he would give up the chance to taste a well-aged bourbon in favor of a less-desirable option.

As they drank, they made some desultory small talk, discussing the weather, the sights of Toronto that Jesse might want to see in the free time before his flight home, and the excellent new Japanese restaurant that had opened since Hanzo was last in town.

It reminded Hanzo that he was hungry as much as he was tired. The cognac was relaxing but also slightly dizzying, and he was glad that this tradition of the brandy at the end of the job was purely a formality and not truly an invitation to drink. He set his empty glass on the butler’s tray, which had appeared at his elbow as soon as he’d taken the last sip, and found himself watching Jesse as he swallowed the last of his whisky. It was so confusing, the whole undercover thing. One moment it made Hanzo angry, frustrated with the differences, and another moment he would find himself flooded with desire, like Jesse was a new lover again. He was glad it would soon be over and they could return to their established rhythm.

Jesse was standing up, reaching to shake Étienne Hébert’s hand, thanking him for the drink, or the job. Hanzo wasn’t sure which. He got up, too, and did likewise. Jesse began to move towards the door, but Hébert held on to Hanzo’s hand and pulled him in closer, to speak softly in his ear.

“He is very good, your Michael King.” He said it in a way that made Hanzo wonder if he knew the name was a pseudonym. “I have given you an extra stipend for him. But I think, perhaps, that you might be happier if you simply took him to your bed.” Hébert released his hand and Hanzo stood upright. His ears were on fire. How could he possibly respond to that?

Hanzo inclined his upper body in the merest suggestion of a bow. “Thank you, monsieur,” he said, gruffly. As he turned to go, he heard Hébert speak again behind him, the smile on his face evident in his voice.

“Thank  _ you _ , M. Shimada. Enjoy your stay in Toronto.”

*

At last, they were alone, unsupervised, in a hotel room that was very different from the one at Hébert’s upscale establishment. Jesse thought it suited Hanzo much better, with the minimalist decor and airy feel of an urban loft. When morning came, the large corner room would be full of light. Under the circumstances, though, that might be more of a curse than a blessing. Jesse’d been hoping to get as much sleep as his body would allow, and it was already nearly eleven pm. Even a winter dawn would arrive far too soon.

Hanzo had insisted that they eat a good meal before crashing, so they’d gone to a small but excellent restaurant not far from the hotel for a late supper. Jesse had hoped that they could talk about the job over dinner, like a casual debriefing session, so he could process everything in the way he was accustomed, but Hanzo had been largely silent, more interested in his wine and linguine than in conversation. There had been some smolderingly intense stares, though. He looked over at his partner as he tugged his tie out of his collar and draped it over the back of a chair. 

Hanzo had untucked his shirt and was carefully unbuttoning it as Jesse came over to him and slid his hands around his lover’s waist. He shivered a little as the tactile receptors in his prosthetic sent their signals through his neural interface. Jesse always forgot how much more sensitive the mechanical hand became without all the armor.

But Hanzo was resistant. He looked up, his shirt falling open as his arms dropped to his sides, not touching Jesse’s. He did not relax into his lover’s embrace as he normally would.

“Do you know what Hébert said to me? He said that you were very good at what you do, but that it would be better for me to take you to my bed.” 

Jesse laughed, and for the first time in several days Hanzo heard the real Jesse. As quickly as it had shown itself, however, it vanished. “I’d say he was right, but I could be biased. Smart guy.” The lighter, unaccented voice returned, and it cut Hanzo even more deeply to have gotten a glimpse of the man he loved only to have it snatched away again.

His eyes flashed as he retorted, “I do not know if it would be wise. I do not know that I would care to sleep with Gabriel Reyes.” He spit the name with all the venom he possessed, all the frustration and exhaustion that had built up inside him over the previous few days.

In a flash, Jesse had him backed against a wall. The smile was gone. “Don’t joke about things like that. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why not?” Hanzo spat back. “I know that is who you are pretending to be. I am not stupid. And I, for one, do not worship the ground he walks on.”

“You would. He doesn’t give you a choice.” Jesse leaned in closer, his breath hot in Hanzo’s face. “I should show you. Maybe then you’d get it.”

Hanzo lifted his chin as he often did when he was being defiant, and haughtily spoke a single word. “Doubtful.”

Jesse felt a rush of rage spiked with lust. “Are you challenging me? Do you really think you can handle me?” He knew as soon as he said it that the definition of “me” at that moment was slippery and changeable, but he really didn’t care if he got it right.

“You may have submitted to him. It does not follow that I would do the same.”

Jesse spun Hanzo around, twisting his arm behind his back and using his body to push Hanzo to the wall. “Let’s find out, shall we?” His words were a growl, delivered directly into his lover’s ear, where it sent a shockwave through Hanzo’s body.

Hanzo’s pulse was flying, his breath heaving like he’d just sprinted a quarter mile. The strain on his shoulder did little to distract him from the solid evidence of Jesse’s arousal where it pressed into his backside. His eyes drifted closed automatically as Jesse ground against him, and he was oddly aware of the texture of the wallpaper against his cheek and the exposed skin of his chest, and how quickly it warmed as his skin flushed. Hanzo felt the throbbing in his own groin increase, and when Jesse’s lips and teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of his neck, he gasped, and found that he was trembling as if it were his first time.

Even through the fog of lust that clouded Jesse’s mind, he noticed the shaking. “Don’t you dare let me do this if it’s not what you want,” he said, his voice softer than before, but still harsh, and rough with need.

Hanzo’s simple reply was the best he could have chosen. “Shut up.”

Jesse let the fire in his body take over. Between the lack of sleep and the lack of nicotine, he was too mentally worn down to find any restraint within himself. He backed off his lover’s body just enough that he could slip his hand around and unfasten Hanzo’s belt and trousers, and he reached inside and fondled Hanzo’s most sensitive parts. He wasn’t at all gentle as he squeezed Hanzo’s balls and rubbed his thumb over the tender tip of Hanzo’s cock. Hanzo panted and squirmed, his muscled buttocks wriggling against Jesse’s crotch. He tried to reach his free hand around behind to touch Jesse’s erection, but Jesse caught his wrist before he got there.

“Hmmm, we’re going to have to do something about these hands of yours. I don’t remember giving you permission to play with my toys.”

Then suddenly there was a release of pressure on Hanzo’s body, but before he could regain his wits long enough to do more than breathe, Jesse had yanked Hanzo’s shirt off and whipped his belt out of his trousers, looping the smooth leather around Hanzo’s arms to bind his forearms together behind his back. Jesse turned him around to face him, and shoved him back against the wall once again, his bound arms forcing his chest to jut out between them.

Jesse jerked Hanzo’s pants down around his knees, leaving him exposed, but instead of continuing his earlier activities, he completely ignored Hanzo’s cock. Instead he focused on Hanzo’s chest, rubbing and pressing down on his nipples, and pinching and squeezing his defined pecs. As he did so, Jesse leaned in to kiss Hanzo with an open mouth, his tongue freely roaming the space between Hanzo’s teeth, filling the void or leaving it empty as the whim took him. 

When they were both getting breathless, Jesse pulled off to adjust himself, and Hanzo dropped to his knees unprompted. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“You wanna suck my dick?” he asked.

Hanzo was still breathing heavily, drooling from the invasive kissing, and his cock was swollen and leaking as it stood out from his body. He looked up at Jesse and nodded.

Jesse rubbed his thumb along Hanzo’s lower lip, already wet and reddened. He pushed down, and Hanzo let his jaw fall open. Jesse unzipped his fly and pulled out his stiffened member, rubbing it first across that same lip before sliding the head in across Hanzo’s tongue. He let it rest there for a minute as Hanzo sucked on it and rubbed it softly. Then he placed one hand on Hanzo’s head and slipped his cock in further. He touched the back of Hanzo’s mouth and pulled out, going easy to start with, but it was warm and wet in Hanzo’s willing mouth, and Jesse was in a mood to push against all limits. He moved his other hand to Hanzo’s head, burying his fingers in the shining dark hair. After three or four shallow thrusts, with Hanzo swirling his tongue around Jesse’s shaft, Jesse pushed even further into his throat and held it there for a breath. He pulled all the way out, and then he did it again, and again. Between thrusts, though his eyes were watering and he gasped for breath, Hanzo did not object. He stared into Jesse’s eyes, an insolent expression on his face, even as he gagged, his mouth stretched wide.

Twice Jesse dove so deep that Hanzo was forced to swallow around him, and he groaned with the pleasure the rippling muscles gave him, but twice was enough. He didn’t want to finish here.

“Your mouth is good, but I think your ass might be better. What do you think?”

Hanzo nodded, his face wet with tears and saliva, his lips salty with Jesse’s pre-cum.

Jesse began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” rasped Hanzo. “I think you should fuck me.” Every word was a small explosion. If he meant it to provoke Jesse into greater fury, it worked. Hanzo was hauled up from the floor and tossed face-first onto the still-made bed, as though his weight was of little consequence. Jesse tore the remainder of his clothing from his body and left him lying there, naked and bound, as he undressed himself. Breaking with his assumed character ever so slightly, he simply tossed his discarded garments aside, not caring where they fell. 

Jesse got down on the bed and spread Hanzo’s heavy, muscular legs wide. Hanzo was playing possum, neither actively resisting or engaging. It should have given him pause, but it merely gave Jesse more fuel for his fire, and made him want to push harder. There was still one rational brain cell left in his head, however, and Jesse gave his partner one more chance to withdraw before he unleashed his primal desires.

“You think you’re ready for this?” Even Jesse was surprised by how much he sounded like Gabe, unyielding, even scornful. It wasn’t meant to be a taunt, but it came out like one. He grabbed Hanzo’s ass, one cheek in each hand, and manipulated the flesh like it was dough, squeezing and stretching and spreading the lobes to allow him to rub his rigid cock back and forth between them.

“If you are asking if I have prepared, then no, I have not.” Hanzo twisted his head as far as he could to the side, trying to stare Jesse down. 

“I’m just warning you it’s going to be a rough ride. Don’t give a damn if it gets dirty.” Jesse prodded at the crinkly starburst of Hanzo’s entrance with his dick, then pulled it away and massaged the almost-yielding target with his thumbs. He had to check his balance as Hanzo leveraged his hips into the air, his hole flexing under Jesse’s fingertips.

“Do it, then,” Hanzo hissed, straining to maintain his position.

In response, Jesse delivered a mighty smack to Hanzo’s proffered ass, leaving a pink handprint that stretched across both cheeks. He was satisfied by the way Hanzo’s body jolted at the blow, and how his cock heaved in response. Jesse laughed, a hollow sound, and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab his lube out of his carry-on bag. He pushed Hanzo back down onto the mattress and poured a liberal amount of the cold liquid down his lover’s crack, shoving it into his entrance and smearing it messily around. Now when he pressed his thumbs down on Hanzo’s hole, they slipped easily inside, and he pulled them in opposite directions, stretching the elastic resistance of the sphincter. 

Hanzo groaned at the sensation, unsure if it was pain or pleasure, or both. This preparation was happening much faster than he was used to. They switched more often now than they had when they first became lovers, but he was still usually the one doing the penetrating, and frequently in control even when Jesse was on top. He was not as tight as a virgin, but the way Jesse was treating him, it certainly felt like it.

His reaction to Jesse’s sudden dominance was baffling even to him. All the frustration of the past 80-something hours had distilled into a strangely perverse sexual energy. Hanzo wanted his lover to destroy him, but he refused to go willingly into the flames. Whatever it was that was causing the contradictory behavior, every touch was going straight to his pleasure centers, regardless of its origin.

Jesse pulled at Hanzo’s rim, using two fingers from each hand now, not even worried about how rigid his mechanical prosthesis was beneath its thin protective silicone jacket. He could just see the beginnings of Hanzo’s soft and warm insides, and he could picture clearly what it felt like to be invaded by the cool air of the room. He leaned over, and let a large gob of spit fall from his mouth. It wasn’t good for lube, and he didn’t need to use it as such, but Jesse knew it would drive Hanzo mad. Hanzo hated excess saliva. There was a quiver from the man beneath him as the realization hit him a split second later.

Hanzo struggled against his restraints. “You asshole,” he grunted, half muffled by the blanket.

The corner of Jesse’s mouth turned up, a darker version of his customary half-grin, and the sense of power that had been growing inside finally consumed him. He took a deep breath and moved his hands to the side, then buried his shaft to the hilt in one solid stroke. He planted one hand either side of Hanzo’s head and slowly lifted his hips until the tip of his cock was on the verge of falling out, then slammed back down until their bodies slapped together. The feel of Hanzo’s heat around his dick was delicious, but reactions of Hanzo's body, the sounds he was making--the guttural moans that rarely escaped his lips under normal circumstances--Jesse found them even more thrilling. 

Jesse pushed Hanzo’s legs even further apart, then shifted down to his elbows, changing his angle of entry. He began to thrust faster, his balls crashing into Hanzo’s with every pounding stroke. Sweat beaded on his forehead and across his chest, and soon they were both slippery with it. He leaned back and flipped Hanzo over. 

Hanzo’s back arched over his bound arms, his chest heaving and his legs floppy. His hair was falling loose from its knot, long dark threads trailing across his face. He complained about none of it, and the face he made when Jesse bent down to suck hard on his protruding nipples was definitely not one of pain. Then Jesse was inside him again, still fucking hard, and his nerve endings lit up and his eyelids fluttered as he rode the waves of pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re hot. You’re almost hotter when you hate my guts,” Jesse panted. “I should tie you up more often.” He was at the point where his cock almost felt a little numb, the place where he only had to push through a little further and he’d be ready to come. He could torment Hanzo a little longer, teasing at his prostate as he slid past it, or he could go for the photo finish. Jesse trailed his fingertips along the length of Hanzo’s softened member, and it elicited a soft cry so needy and desperate that it made the decision for him. He paused in his motion again, and lifted Hanzo to stand on his knees, upright, and turned him to face away. Inserting himself once more into his lover’s now relaxed and welcoming entrance, he wrapped his mechanical hand around Hanzo’s sack, and his natural hand around Hanzo’s neck, bracing him firmly against his own chest to keep him from collapsing back down to the bed. Then Jesse began to thrust again, short hard strokes that hit close enough to Hanzo’s prostate that every one made him jerk slightly in Jesse’s arms. 

Hanzo’s moans quickly turned into rhythmic cries, and when the sensors in Jesse’s prosthetic fingers registered a rippling movement in Hanzo’s testicles, his human fingers pinched either side of Hanzo’s throat, temporarily cutting off the oxygen supply to his brain as he came. The sweet-hot ecstasy of orgasm suffused every part of Hanzo’s body, heightened by his complete lack of control and the effectiveness of Jesse’s little tricks. 

Jesse felt the spasm of Hanzo’s hole around his cock and counted the number of seconds he knew was safe, then released the blood flow back to his lover’s head. He kept thrusting throughout, but he was slowing down now, his body deciding for itself how fast it needed to move to get where it was going. He waited to feel the electric rush of Hanzo’s dragon spirit, but it didn’t arrive, and he rolled over into an unexceptional release without it. 

Gradually Jesse returned to reality, his body loose and relaxed after the exercise, though without the lingering euphoria of a powerful climax. He lowered his lover gently to the blankets, then removed the belt that had restrained Hanzo's arms, rubbing them briskly as he did so. 

Jesse got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom to grab a towel. When he came back, Hanzo hadn’t moved. He lay there, eyes closed, sweaty and flushed, the distinctive lines of his face blurred, and it hit Jesse like a freight train what he’d done. In that instant, the spell completely shattered. He’d inhabited his version of Gabriel Reyes so fully that he’d treated Hanzo like he’d been treated all those years ago, without regard to the consequences. He sank to his knees beside the bed, sick to his stomach, and carefully began to clean up the mess he’d left on Hanzo’s body. 

When he was done, and Hanzo was dry and warm and drowsing under the covers, Jesse returned to the bathroom to wash up himself. He left the lights off, unwilling to even accidentally make eye contact with himself in the mirror. This was it, he told himself. This was the point where he closed the door on Gabriel Reyes. Forever. It had to be. It was time he grew up and accepted that even if he had gotten what he wanted from the man, he never would have been happy. It could never have worked out. What he had now, with Hanzo,  _ that _ had a chance, even if it was only a small one, and if he continued to let Gabe live in his head, it would ruin everything. 

His eyes burned as tears came, and he fought them back, his face still dry as he switched off the lamp and crawled into bed next to his lover. Hanzo responded sleepily as Jesse embraced him, snuggling closer into his arms. They fit together like puzzle pieces when they curled up this way, Jesse’s torso and legs just long enough that he could wrap around Hanzo and still bend in the places that Hanzo bent. This was another break from tradition, but tonight of all nights, Jesse needed to feel like he was the one who was the shield, protecting his lover. His eyes screwed shut, he pressed his cheek against Hanzo’s silky hair and inhaled the aroma of his skin and what remained of their sex as it rose with the heat of his body.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you...I love you so much, baby, I’m sorry…” Jesse was murmuring in his ear as the tingling in Hanzo’s limbs finally faded, leaving him relaxed and content. It took a moment for him to realize that Jesse was speaking in his natural voice. He turned his lethargic body around in his lover’s embrace and pressed it against Jesse’s, kissing him with soft, open lips as he did so, and their limbs entwined. When the kiss eventually faded, Hanzo did not move away.

“I guess you’re not mad at me, then?” Jesse asked quietly. 

“I am not. You caused me no pain beyond that which I desired.” Hanzo’s voice was hoarse, and it made Jesse feel guilty again, remembering why. “I do not care for your disguise, but...it served a purpose. And it is you here with me now.” 

“When we get back home, this persona is officially retired. I don’t need it. I have others. I’ll make a new one. Whatever it takes…" Jesse had to assume that this was an acceptable solution, because Hanzo kissed him again, and they were occupied that way for a while longer, until Hanzo turned around once more and settled back against Jesse’s chest to fall asleep. Jesse stayed awake as long as he could and listened to Hanzo’s breathing, afraid that the dreams would come again. Eventually he could no longer resist the fatigue, and with his lover in his arms, he slid down into depths of sleep. 

*

Jesse stood at the window as he pulled on his red sweater, taking in the winter morning activity of the city below. Hanzo came up behind him and tweaked the wrinkles out of the soft lambswool, smoothing his palm across Jesse's shoulders. 

"You did not shave," he observed. 

Jesse turned and looked into his partner's face. "No, I don't think I will. Maybe for the flight home. Maybe."

"You are no longer concerned about remaining undercover?" Hanzo was conflicted. He hated Jesse's disguise, but he was more worried about his lover’s safety. 

"I reckon we won't be under as much pressure for the next couple of days." Jesse leaned in, his forehead almost touching Hanzo's. "Especially if we spend most of our time here."

Hanzo tipped his chin up and their lips touched in a brief kiss. He opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled by a demanding rumble from Jesse's belly. 

"Breakfast first, then." Hanzo's eyes twinkled at Jesse's sheepish grin. 

Jesse laughed. "Good idea. Lead the way, sweetpea."


End file.
